Got accosted at Brussels airport, a survey on how I found my experience at the airport, and from one to ten, how likely was it that I would recommend the airport to friends? Seems an odd idea, choosing where to fly from depending on what a fun place the airport was? Although, come to think of it, I have gone to considerable lengths before to avoid LAX so maybe its not that silly a question. For the record, its a perfectly fine airport, and I certainly wouldn’t take a taxi to another city just to avoid it. The final question in the survey was my age. The lady gave me the tablet so I could input my age without having the embarrassment of having to declare the number out loud. Bizarre. Doesn’t she know I’m a jeune femme? Honestly, maybe that strange Dutch man who wants to legally change his age so he can have better luck on Tinder is onto something. Age is just a number etc etc although strangely enough, only for men it seems.
From Brussels I flew to Heathrow, and then began the epic journey that is NZ1, Heathrow to Auckland via LAX. Half way through the first leg, we were rudely awakened by that most awful of announcements : “Is there a doctor on the plane?”* I wrestled with my conscience for a few minutes, pretending to be asleep, but eventually I gave up and presented myself sheepishly to the nearest flight attendant. “You’re a doctor?” she said, looking at me through narrowed eyes “of medicine?” I agreed, sadly. Unfortunately, by the time she rang her colleague down where the action was, it was too late: another doctor (from economy!) had beaten me to it. Gosh darn it! We were met by paramedics at LA airport, so actually I was quite relieved not to have been involved. Let’s face it: I’m an anaesthetist – if I can’t stick a tube in it, it’s not my area of expertise.
This natty gentleman was in my cabin all the way from London to Auckland. I’m guessing he and his outfit both date back to when people talked about the ‘romance of travel’. A three piece suit and tie for 24 hours of flying: very impressive – and that doesn’t include the coat and fedora he wore when leaving the plane. Everyone wearing sweatpants: I hope you feel suitably ashamed of yourselves.
*actually I suppose “we’re going down!” would be worse.